


The Rule

by editoress



Category: Toy Story (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-28 20:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18213455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editoress/pseuds/editoress
Summary: It was an honest mistake.  And if not for a certain toy's dedication to Andy, it could have stayed that way.Or, in which Andy makes a startling discovery and things come full circle.





	1. Chapter 1

The problem with newer toys was that—

_Well._

Woody, personally, felt that a number of woes came along with the newest kinds of toys.  Woody had been made, oh, in the sixties or seventies, and he had been made sturdy.  His only features, so to speak, were a hat and a pull-string; the rest was pure charm.  And that was enough for Andy, so he didn’t figure he needed more than that.

Nowadays toys were complicated.  They came with _pieces_.  And not Lego pieces; those were fine fellows, a little off, but what did you expect when someone’s body got swapped out every other day?  No, when Woody sat in the toy box and thought his anxious thoughts, it was about the graveyard of rubbery accessories in Molly’s room that somehow all belonged to a Miss Polly Pocket.  It was about choking hazards.  It was about real firing action laser bolts that got lost under furniture pretty much forever.  Not to mention that fancy mechanisms like that were bound to end up jammed at least once.

But the absolute worst thing of all was _batteries_.

Lost pieces and stuck springs were one thing, but if a toy needed batteries, there was nothing to be done about it.  They absolutely had to have them.

The lid to the toy box cracked open, and a yellow glare flooded in.  Jessie’s head popped up into view.  Her mouth was pushed into a worried frown.  “How’s he doing?”

Woody sighed.  “He’s still out cold.”

 _He_ was Buzz Lightyear, and he was out of battery.  They had propped him up in the toy box as comfortably as possible until they could organize a rescue mission.  Even so, Buzz lay at kind of an odd angle, half propped against the corner.  Jessie gave him such a wide-eyed, heartbroken look.  Sometimes Woody thought about telling Buzz, or at least giving him a hint, but surely Buzz would figure it out.

Someday.  Maybe.  It _had_ been about five years.

“What’re you doing sitting in the dark, anyway?” Jessie asked.

Woody, who had been hovering over his best friend chewing over various worries for going on three hours, said defensively, “I’m thinking.”

“Aw, you’re fussing,” she said dismissively.  “Get outta that box.”  He scowled at her right up until she reached out a hand and said, “Might as well do your waiting out here with friends.”

“Yeah,” Potato Head called, “not like Buzz is going anywhere.”

Woody chucked a bouncy ball in his direction.  There was a satisfying _clonk_ and the clamor of surprised aliens.

Jessie whistled.  “Nice shooting, partner.  Now are you coming out or ain’t ya?”

“All right, all right.”  Woody stood and straightened his hat so it looked like he had a little dignity.  He took Jessie’s offered hand.  “You’re right.”

“What’s that?” she shouted.  She let him dangle while she cupped her other hand to her ear with a devilish grin.  “Couldn’t hear you!”

“I said you’re _right_ , Jess; now give me a lift!”

Woody was just getting his feet under him when he heard Slink’s voice from across the room.  “Might want to hold off on that.”

Sure enough, the unmistakable squeak-thud combination of Andy’s sports shoes was sounding on the stairs.  Jessie dropped Woody and held the lid open while everyone dove into the toy box.  Hamm was the last one in, bringing Slink’s back end with him.

“It’s _fine_ , Mom,” Andy was saying as he came in.  Woody shuffled over to the window side of the toy box, where the lid had started to fit unevenly and left a gap.  Andy had the phone in hand and spun around idly on the desk chair.  “Uh-huh—all the doors—yes, I’m sure.  Mom, I’m almost fifteen, I’ll be totally fine.”

He was only fourteen, though, Woody reminded himself.  The last thing he needed was for Andy to round up when he was already growing so fast.

Andy made occasional affirmative noises while he straightened up his desk, piling pens into an old mug.  Once upon a time, a few favored action figures had remained on the desk.  Andy hadn’t played with them, really, but he’d at least fiddled with them when he got stuck on his homework.  Now that he had to do projects and write papers, the desk was stacked with books and binders without a toy in sight.  Andy smiled suddenly and leaned forward in the chair.  “Hi, Molly.”

What a good kid.

“Yeah.  Are you having fun?”  A shadow passed over the gap in the lid, and Woody dropped just before Andy opened the toy box.  Woody’s seams could have burst with excitement, even though he knew better.  Andy hadn’t actually played with them since he was twelve.  He was just busying his hands while he was on the phone.  Still, when Andy nudged Woody’s hat back into place, it was close enough.  “Don’t worry, I’ll come next time.  I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, Molly?”  He grabbed something plastic off the floor and wedged the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he could pick up Potato Head, too.  He fit Potato Head’s nose back into place.  “Okay.  Bye.”

Potato Head went back in the toy box.  As soon as he was out of Andy’s line of sight, he gave Woody the stink eye, and Woody realized how his nose had ended up on the floor.

Andy pulled Buzz out next.  “Yes, Mom.  I will.  You just have fun.”  He closed one eye and pressed Buzz’s laser button.

Of course, nothing happened.

Andy frowned and tried again.  He held Buzz up and gave him an open-mouthed look of confusion left over from younger days.  “Mom, do you know where the double A batteries are?”

She didn’t.  Woody knew this from experience.

Andy’s expression confirmed it.  “Okay.  No, nothing.  See you tomorrow.  Love you, too, Mom.”  He hung up the phone but continued to examine Buzz.  He tapped one of the voice activation buttons to no effect.  Finally, he shrugged and left with Buzz in hand, basketball shoes squeaking across the hardwood.

Half a dozen toys peered over the edge of the box at once.  “Where’s he going with Buzz?” Jessie asked.  She had the same frantic edge to her voice that storage brought out.

Woody patted her shoulder.  “Relax, Jess.  He’s just going to change his batteries.”

“As soon as he finds them,” Hamm piped up.  “I’m just saying, they should leave toy operations to us toys.”

Rex wiggled his way up to the surface, jostling everyone aside and waving his arms in the air.  “What if Andy never finds the batteries?  What’s he gonna do with Buzz?”

“Depends,” Potato Head grumbled, straightening his nose, “do they still recycle plastic?”

“All right, everyone calm down,” Woody ordered.  “No need to panic.”  But when he looked back at Jessie, he realized two things in quick succession.  She was nervous—and so was he.  He levered himself up to the edge of the open toy box.  “I’ll go keep an eye on Buzz.  Sarge?”

“Sir!” Sarge replied, muffled, from somewhere around where he’d gotten the bouncy ball.

“You tag along.  If anything happens, you come tell the others.”  He dropped to the floor and gave everyone his best sheriff look, hands on his belt.  “All right?”

Sarge was a professional, so Woody didn’t offer to carry him.  They made good time down the stairs, even with Woody rolling his steps so the boots wouldn’t make so much noise.  The house was too quiet.  Maybe Woody was just superstitious, but this felt different from the middle of the night, when everyone was present but asleep.  It was big and empty and he didn’t like it.

“I have a visual,” Sarge whispered.  Woody joined him at the doorway and squinted up.  Half the drawers in the kitchen were open, and he could just see Buzz’s boots over the edge of the counter.  Andy was rummaging around under the sink.

“We need a higher vantage point,” Sarge continued.  He pointed across the doorway to the china cabinet.

“Good thinking, Sarge.  Are you gonna need a boost?”

“Negative, sir.”  He popped into perfect military posture so quickly that his plastic base left the floor for a second.  “I’ll stay on the ground to deliver our report.”

Woody threw him a salute.  As soon as the coast was clear, he darted across the doorway and started scrambling up the china cabinet.  He perched on a handle and eased over until he could see the kitchen.  Buzz was lying face-down.  The screws were out of his battery compartment.  One was still rolling in a circle next to the screwdriver.  Woody let out a sigh of relief.  He cupped a hand around his mouth and whispered, “He’s changing the batteries!”

“So Andy has located the batteries?” floated back up to him.

Woody tipped his hat down to shade his eyes from the fluorescent lights and peered into the room.  Andy stood up and dropped a dusty box of double As on the counter.  He looked as triumphant as Woody felt.  “Yes!” Woody called down.

Sarge marched off to deliver the news.  His exit was covered by the sound of Andy closing all the drawers.  “Okay,” Andy said, “let’s see.”  He wedged the battery cover off Buzz’s back.

This was perfect.  They could all scrap the midnight rescue mission.  Buzz was going to be confused about Star Command all over again for about half an hour, but after that he would be back to normal at full charge.

Andy threw the dead batteries at the trash can across the kitchen.  One pinged off the rim, and he sheepishly ran over to grab it before it rolled under the fridge.  He blew some dust out of Buzz’s battery compartment and dug out two fresh double As.  He even snapped them in the right way in one try, which was better than Woody could say for some of his friends.

He’d _told_ them it would be fine.

Buzz rolled onto his back, blinking in confusion.

Oh, _great_.

His eyes widened comically and he dropped back into his painted factory pose, but it was too late.  Andy jumped back with a sound like _aaaiiugh_.  His voice, which had changed just last year, cracked into its prepubescent range.  He had half crouched as if ready to bolt, but he stayed and stared at Buzz, who was perfectly motionless.

Woody dragged one hand down his face in sheer stress.  Andy unknowingly mirrored the gesture by scrubbing his hands over his eyes.  He made the _aaaiiugh_ noise again, this time with a questioning note at the end.  Still Buzz didn’t move.  Slowly, Andy straightened up.  His breathing started to return to normal.

 _Don’t panic_ , Woody told himself firmly.  Andy was getting over it already.  He was doing that adult thing where he came up with some outlandish explanation and forgot all about it.  Everything was going to be fine.

But Andy didn’t shrug it off.  Instead, he put his fingertips on the counter and leaned down.  “Buzz?” he said, very, very quietly.  He jerked back as if afraid of a response.  Buzz, sensible soldier that he was, didn’t move.  Andy inched closer until his chin was nearly resting on the countertop.  “Buzz?” he tried again.

Nothing.

After that, Andy replaced the battery cover, though he handled Buzz like he was a live snake.  Woody hauled himself to the top of the china cabinet, out of sight when Andy passed by and went to the stairs, carrying Buzz warily but with care.

The stairs!  Woody smacked his fist against the china cabinet.  There was no way he was going to make it back to Andy’s room before Andy did.  Woody swung out over the china cabinet and dropped ungracefully to the floor.  He ran as fast as he could go, holding his hat on with one hand.  Maybe if he could get just behind them, he could at least be in the room.

They were too far ahead.  When Woody reached the landing, Andy was coming out of his room, not going in.  Woody went limp before Andy could catch sight of him.  This was not good.  Back in the day, toys could be found all over the house and no one would comment, but now—

“Okay,” said Andy’s voice from above him, high and full of nerves.  “I did _not_ leave you here.  Okay.  Okay, okay, okay.”

He was freaking out.  Woody knew the feeling.

Andy picked him up by the back of his shirt, very thoughtfully replaced his hat, and brought him back upstairs.  He put Woody in the toy box, gave all of the toys a deeply unsure look, and closed the lid.

They stayed quiet in the dark while Andy did his homework and watched TV.  Woody didn’t dare peek out in case Andy was suspicious enough to be watching.  Even once he went to bed, the poor kid tossed and turned for a long time before he finally fell asleep.  He’d never had this much trouble sleeping when Woody was there looking out for him, that was for sure.

When there was no doubt Andy was asleep, Woody began elbowing his way to a familiar green glow.  “Buzz!”  Despite how hectic the night had gotten, it was really good to see him up and about again.  He’d only been out of commission for a few days, but Woody had missed him.  Seeing him but not being able to talk to him had been worse than a whole week of Cowboy Camp.  “You’re okay!”

Buzz didn’t look nearly as thrilled, which was plain odd considering that he was the one who’d needed batteries, not to mention Jessie had just finished giving him a hug.  “Woody,” he said in his solemn commander voice, “everyone, I’m sorry.  I’ve compromised our position.”

“Earth to space boy,” Hamm quipped.  “I don’t think he’s back with us yet, guys.  Somebody pull up eBay.”

“I’m not talking about Star Command,” Buzz insisted.  “Andy saw me move.”

Because Woody had been with this crew for years, he started shushing them immediately, before they could even get started up.  “Hey, hey, hey, listen.”  He slung an arm around Buzz.  “You’ve got a fresh change of batteries.”  Personally, he would have danced the polka in front of Andy’s mom for that.  “Now all we have to do is lie low for a few days.  Just act natural and he’ll forget about the whole thing.”  He smiled at all their dubious faces.  “You’ll see.”


	2. Chapter 2

For the next few weeks, things were almost normal.

The _almost_ in this case was that Buzz had been placed on the desk, and Andy kept staring at him.  Normally that kind of fresh air and attention would have been a dream come true.  Since it came with the looming threat of Andy finding them out, though, it was more nerve-wracking than anything else.  Buzz took it all on with dutiful aplomb.

“As far as technical skills go,” he admitted one day while Andy was at school, “it’s the easiest mission I’ve ever had.”

Woody gestured broadly.  “Exactly.  After everything we’ve been through, this will be no problem.”

Mrs. Potato Head clicked her tongue.  “It’s been ages already.  When is Andy going to forget about all this and go back to normal?”

“Any day now,” Woody assured her without missing a beat.

“Don’t worry,” Buzz added.  He dropped a fist into his palm.  “I made a mistake, so I’ll fix it.  Whatever it takes.”

Woody clapped him on the back and shook him a little as if that could dislodge the cloud of guilt that had been following Buzz around for weeks.  He raised his voice for the surrounding toys.  “In the meantime, we just have to be extra careful.”

“He’s talking to you, door stop,” Hamm said under his breath.

“I forgot!” Rex said defensively.  “I can’t think when I’m stressed!”

Woody waved to get their attention back on him.  “Focus, guys.  Remember where you were last seen.  Stick to places he expects to find you.  Just a little longer and we’re home free.”

There was a general murmur of acknowledgement.  They had all heard it before, regularly, since the night of the incident.  This time, one voice was missing, and Woody turned, shocked, to look at Slink.

Slink was tracing circles on the floor with one paw, a paw he was watching studiously rather than look at Woody.  When he felt the weight of everyone’s attention gathering on him, he began, “I’ve been thinking.  Would it be all that awful if Andy got to know us?”

A gasp rippled through the room.

“It’s just a thought,” Slink muttered at his paw.

“Are you out of your mind?” Mr. Potato Head railed.  “Even _Buzz_ knew to play plastic when he first got here, and he thought he was a real space ranger!”

Buzz cleared his throat.  “He’s right.  As toys, we have one rule.  And I broke it.”

“But—” Rex broke in.  He tapped his hands together.  “But—wouldn’t it be _nice_ to talk to Andy, since he doesn’t play with us anymore?”

“Enough, Rex.”

“I need emotional support here!” he insisted shrilly.

“You know why we _have_ that rule?” Woody retorted.  “Because anything else would scare them to death!  I broke that rule _once_ with Sid.  You didn’t see his face when he ran screaming.”

“Kid deserved it,” Hamm pointed out.

Woody folded his arms.  “Yeah, well, you didn’t see Andy’s face when he saw Buzz move.”  The way that came out didn’t occur to him until Buzz deflated beside him.  “Aw, no, Buzz, I didn’t mean—”

Buzz held up a hand.  “You’re just being honest, Woody.  They need to know the stakes.”  To everyone else, he said, “It’s important to keep up the status quo.  We’re almost there.”

“Just _be careful_ ,” Woody reminded them.

“All right, Woody,” Slink agreed pitifully, and the rest of them followed suit.  They knew deep down that kind of talk was just a crazy dream.  They had wanted to voice it because, well, everyone liked complaining.  That was all.  In the end, Andy would never know, and things would go right back to normal.

With everyone in the toy box and Andy growing up.

Woody turned, but Buzz wasn’t there anymore.  He was already climbing back to his perch on the desk with militant determination.  That only added to the melancholy turn Woody’s thoughts were taking.  Fortunately, those thoughts were interrupted when Jessie propped an elbow on his shoulder.  Her eyes followed Buzz up the desk.  “Poor fella,” she sighed.  “He’s taking this awful hard.”

“Yeah.”  Woody dragged his hat off his head.  “Can you talk to him?  I keep making it worse.”

“Why, I’d be glad to.”  She held out a hand, palm up.  “Tag me in?”

He slapped her hand, and she darted off with a grin.

Woody took up what was once his usual spot on the bed.  Then, after further thought, he scooted closer to the edge in plain view of everybody so they couldn’t claim he was brooding.  He folded his arms over his knees and huffed out a sigh.

Talk to Andy.  What a ridiculous idea.  Toys did not talk to kids.  Woody had never even heard of such a thing, apart from what he’d done to Sid, which had been a ploy to _intentionally_ freak him out.  No way was he doing that to Andy.  The rule was there for a good reason, and they couldn’t go rogue and overturn everything it meant to be a toy just because they felt like it.  No wonder he was so stressed; he had to keep a group of absolute nutsos in line.

Said nutsos were currently yelling at the TV.  Woody couldn’t tell what they were watching past the noise and the jostling, most of which was their attempts to shush each other, but it was probably a soap opera.  Slink, true to form, was taking a nap in a patch of sunlight.  Buzz and Jessie sat next to each other on the desk.  Jessie leaned over to give him a friendly nudge with her shoulder, and for a second, he wore the same dazed expression as he had when he woke up with fresh batteries.

Woody sighed again, but this time a smile was creeping over his face.  This wasn’t so bad, was it?  They were still here, in Andy’s room.  They had free reign of the house most weekdays.  And most importantly, they were together.  There was no need to do anything crazy.

A distant, distinctive thud rattled through the walls.  A second later, Woody heard voices downstairs.  He leapt to his feet.  “They’re home!  Everyone in the box!  Come on, guys, just—Hamm, _turn the TV off_ , would you?”

Woody swung down to the toy box to hold the lid open.  Slink made the jump with a yawn, bringing the aliens in with his back end.  Woody helped everyone else file in.  “Yeah, yeah,” he offered in reply to their complaints about the soap opera.  Buzz gave Jessie a hand down from the desk; once on the floor, she vaulted into the box without any help.  Woody muttered, “Show-off,” as she flipped past him.  Buzz stood at attention on the desk, right where Andy had left him, and nodded seriously.  Woody nodded back and jumped down into the toy box, taking the lid with him.

They were just in time.  The door opened to the sound of Andy’s mom yelling something from downstairs.  “I’m going to do my homework first,” Andy replied, and shut the door.  His bookbag landed on the desk with a papery crash.  The lid flew open just long enough for Andy to frown at them.  Then it shut again.  There was silence, and it was definitely not the silence of homework.

“Buzz Lightyear to the rescue!” announced the tinny, prerecorded voice from Buzz’s speaker.  “Buzz Lightyear to the rescue!”

Woody grimaced.  He was just thinking of crawling to the gap when the lid opened again.  Andy picked him up and sat down heavily on the bed.  He held Woody up in a standing position and straightened out his vest.  It was painfully nostalgic, actually.  Up until a few years ago, they would sit just like this, and Andy would chatter at him and make up Woody’s replies, moving him around for emphasis.  Now Andy just held him and looked at him with a terrible blend of worry and hope.

“Woody?”  His brow furrowed, eyes wide, and suddenly he looked a lot younger than fourteen.  His voice was low.  “Just say something if you’re there, okay?”  When there was no reply, sadness pulled the corners of his mouth.  He was looking right into Woody’s eyes.  “Come on, Woody.”

Oh.  Oh, _no_.  This wasn’t _fair_.  This was, hands down, the worst thing that had ever happened to Woody in his entire existence.  He was letting Andy down.  His kid was upset, and it was his fault.  Some memory of _one rule_ and _status quo_ rattled around in the back of his head but didn’t find much purchase.  He was too busy figuring out how to go against everything he had just finished saying without scaring Andy.

“Woody?”  Andy’s shoulders slumped and his gaze dropped to the floor, and that was even worse.  He set Woody down against the pillow.  He stood up with a heartbroken sigh and started for the desk.

Woody scrambled to his feet.  He cleared his throat.

Andy turned around _very_ slowly.

Woody couldn’t seem to make his voice work, so he cleared his throat again.  Then, weakly, he said, “Howdy, partner.”

Andy’s mouth opened into a surprised oval.  He didn’t say anything.

Woody resisted the urge to clear his throat a third time.  Every instinct he had wanted to go limp, but it was a little late now.  He spread his hands in a calming gesture.  “I know this is a shock.  But, uh… it’s still just me.  It’s Woody.”  Oh, great.  Way to sound like an impostor.  Something moved behind Andy; in four bounds, Buzz had made it to the bed to stand beside Woody, and though he looked horrified, he didn’t immediately call Woody the biggest idiot on the planet.

Andy tried to say Buzz’s name but mostly ended up with, “Buh…”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Andy,” Buzz said.  He nudged Woody.

Woody stepped forward with a little more confidence.  Maybe this was a terrible idea, but at least he had backup.  “That’s right.  We’re _your toys_ , Andy.  The same toys you’ve always had.”

Andy rubbed a hand a little feverishly over his head, turning his hair into one floppy tangle.  “I’m not going crazy?”

“No,” Woody mumbled, “but I think _I_ must have.”  Buzz patted him consolingly on the shoulder but did not disagree.

Andy knelt down to give the two of them a good look.  Buzz puffed his chest out slightly as though hoping to pass inspection.  Andy’s expression was starting to morph from shock into something else.  “It’s really you?”

Woody latched onto that small step forward.  “Yes!  Yes, Andy, it’s me!  We’ve been friends since you were four!  And—and remember when you got Buzz for your birthday?”  He shook Buzz eagerly by the collar.  “And you put him on your bed?  Oh, I was… I was a little jealous.”

Buzz coughed.  “The point is that we’re the same toys you’ve known for years.  You’re safe with us, Andy.”

Woody nodded vigorously.  “That’s right.  Our whole job is to be there for you.”  He hesitated.  Behind Andy, the other toys were peeking out from under the lid, and he really didn’t want to see their expressions right now.  “Even if that means going back to the way things were.”  He glanced at Buzz, who nodded encouragingly.  “Listen, if what you want is to pretend this never happened—”

A flurry of movement knocked him off his feet.  He was pinned on all sides and couldn’t see a thing past the hair in his face.  It had been so long that it actually took him a few seconds to realize that Andy was hugging him.

Andy was _hugging_ him.

“You’re _here_ ,” Andy said.

From Andy’s other shoulder came the clack of plastic and Buzz’s voice saying, “We’ve always been here.”

Woody curled an arm across his kid’s shoulder, or what of it he could reach.  There was going to be a lot of trouble over this in a minute.  For one thing, he was never going to hear the end of being the one to reveal them all.  For another, they would still have to hide from Molly and Andy’s mom.  And this was no guarantee things would be perfect from here on out.  Andy was still growing up, and on top of that, Woody had just singlehandedly wrecked the universal order of things.  But for right now, he rested his head on Andy’s cheek and took it all back.  This was the best idea he’d ever had.


	3. An Interlude of Three Years

Against what might be termed common sense, they watched a horror movie about a doll.

Woody had to admit it was a little lackluster on the _horror_ part.  But then, when the entire premise of the threat was that a toy could move around, this particular group was bound to be unimpressed.  Woody personally had met creepier dolls who had turned out to be decent in the end.  The most interesting part of it all was the running commentary among them, which started up five minutes in and didn’t stop until it was over.

“Can I look now?” Rex asked from somewhere in Andy’s jacket.  Andy was hunched low in an attempt to hide behind Rex.

“What are you, a couple of teething rings?” Potato Head scoffed.  “That was nothing.  Get out of there, Rex; the credits are rolling.”

There was a pause and then a low, “The credits music sounds scary.”

Andy straightened up and patted Rex as though he had been doing the comforting all along.  “I wasn’t scared,” he said.  “It was just a little creepy.”

Some snickering started up from the other end of the couch, and Woody jumped to his defense.  “Now, come on, the doll _was_ crazy.”

“Yeah, so are some colleagues I know,” Hamm shot back.  “Not naming any names.”

Slink snuffled.  “And we’ve met some mean toys in our time.”

“Well, yeah,” Woody allowed, “but trying to kill an owner?  No toy I’ve met would do _that_.”

They hemmed and hawed, but really that was the winning point and they all knew it.  Woody had just folded his arms triumphantly when Andy piped up, “It wasn’t the doll doing that.”

They turned to look up at him one by one.  “Did we watch the same movie?” Hamm asked.

“It was a demon,” Andy explained.  When they stared, nonplussed, he continued, “You know—an evil spirit?  It took control of the doll and was using it to kill the girl.”

The credits music came to a soft, foreboding end, and the screen went black.  Woody and his friends looked at Andy in silent horror.

That night, every one of them managed to squeeze onto the bed.

* * *

Co-op mode on video games was not quite the same as being played with, but Rex obviously enjoyed it almost as much.

To be fair, it was pretty fun for all of them.  The video game in question was a shooting game.  Woody didn’t know any of the characters; the game wasn’t for kids, and so it had come along a little too late for Andy to buy any of the related action figures.  But it certainly made an exciting spectator sport.

Andy had one controller.  Rex had half of the other; Slink, the only one not enjoying himself, was wrapped around the other half in an attempt to reach the joystick and the trigger at the same time while Rex frantically shouted instructions.

“Run!  Run!  Grenade!”  Rex pummeled the buttons on his side of the controller.  His little arms were a clacking whirlwind.  “Left!  No, the other way!”

“Learn your left from your right!” Slink retorted crossly.

“You’re doing good, Slink,” Woody put in encouragingly, but he wasn’t sure he could be heard over the ruckus.  Everyone else was crowded around the players, whooping and cheering them on.  Andy’s laughter was punctuated with hoarse adolescent war cries—exactly how he sounded when he played video games with his friends.  He let out a particularly triumphant yell as his character dashed around the corner right at Rex’s, sword swinging.

Jessie jumped up and down in sheer excitement.  “Yeah!  Get him, Andy!”

Beside her, Buzz called out, “Rex, you’re a long-range fighter; get some distance—”

But instead, Rex shrieked and tried to cover his face with his hands, leaving Slink to attempt an escape alone.  “Whoa, Nelly!” Slink yelped.  He put both front paws on the joystick and leaned back—but he wasn’t fast enough.

The match end screen popped up with a series of explosion sound effects.  Rex peeked up at it.  “Oh, we died!”

“ _You_ died,” Slink muttered.

Normally, Woody would have felt obligated to console them, or at least to cheer up Slink with a reminder that it was all in fun.  And later, he would do just that.  But for now he was too busy mobbing Andy in celebration with everyone else.

* * *

Every once in a while, Andy would put something together.  Little mysteries from years past would suddenly make sense in light of his toys’ active lives.  To Woody’s relief, he hadn’t yet figured out why Sid had avoided him like the plague all through middle school.

One lazy evening, Woody was lounging on the window sill, one leg propped on the opposite knee, absently bouncing his foot in the breeze.  From behind him, Andy said suddenly, “When we got home from Grandpa’s funeral, you were on my pillow.”

Woody turned.  Andy was stretched out on the bed.  His English class book was lying beside him, long forgotten.  He stared avidly at the ceiling.  “I thought Mom had put you there,” he continued.  His voice was watery.  “To remind me he wasn’t really gone.”

Woody pushed his hat back and rubbed at his forehead.  Words piled up on each other without escaping, except in little fits and starts.  At last he managed to sigh, “Oh, Andy,” but he didn’t know what else to say.  What _could_ he say?  That yes, he’d bolted for the bed instead of the desk as soon as he’d heard the front door open?  That he’d wanted to help with grief the way he once could with nightmares?  Was he supposed to share what he remembered about Andy’s grandfather?

After another beat of being plumb tongue-tied, Woody decided not to say anything.  He made the jump to the bed and settled back into his relaxed slump, this time leaning against Andy’s side.  After a moment of definitely not sniffling, Andy picked his book back up.  Woody stayed there for a while, not to play or even talk—just to be there.  Just like the old days.

* * *

“And she’s so funny,” Andy went on.  He spun in his desk chair.  He was starting to repeat himself; he had been going on in this vein for several minutes.  “And she’s nice, really nice.  Not just to me, but to everybody.”

“So ask her to the dance!” Woody put in, before the kid could mention how pretty this girl was for a third time.

“I’m not sure how.”  His voice turned the statement up into a question.  It was turning out to be a charming tenor grown-up voice.

Hamm snorted.  “So what are you telling _us_ for?”

Andy grimaced.  “I need advice.”

At this, an expectant silence started lumbering around the room.  The assembled toys, plus one teen, alternately stared at each other and faked an intense fascination with the wallpaper, so that the silence could pass them by uninterrupted.  Woody waited for the revelation—a revelation that, come to think of it, Andy definitely didn’t know to have.

All the same, Andy’s face brightened with an idea.  But instead of saying, _You know what?  Woody seems like he would know how to woo a lady.  Did you ever have a steady girl, Woody?_ he said, “Mister Potato Head— _you’re_ married.”

As one, all eyes in the room turned to Potato Head.  Potato Head gaped back at them.  “Oh, you want _my_ advice?” he asked—warily, as if he weren’t sure yet whether he ought to be offended or not.

Andy nodded earnestly.

On the edge of the desk, Buzz leaned forward with equal enthusiasm.  “What, uh—”  He raised a fist to clear his throat in a veneer of professionalism that could’ve been knocked over with a feather.  “What have you got, Potato Head?”  Woody rolled his eyes.

“Fine.  All right.  Okay, boys and girls.”  Potato Head waved a finger dramatically in the air, clearly enjoying the attention.  “You want my advice?  Here it is: have the perfect wife made for you, and wait until your kid’s sister gets her for Christmas.”

“Oh, snookums!” Missus Potato Head cried.

“Then,” Potato Head continued, “get saddled with three kids who don’t look like you—”

“I get it,” Andy sighed.  He pulled a face.  “You didn’t really date.”  The rest of the crowd grumbled an agreement, which had no visible effect on Potato Head.

Woody couldn’t take it any longer.  He stood up from his seat on the bed and asked loudly, “Excuse me, aren’t you guys _forgetting_ _somebody_?”

Andy blinked up at him in surprise.  Buzz looked at Woody as though he’d never seen him before, which was really something considering that Buzz had been the one to spend long school days with his arm slung around Woody’s shoulders in the weeks after Bo left.  Woody had been a mess for a while.  Sometimes he still missed her so bad he could feel it, like his vinyl was cracking.  It wasn’t Andy’s fault, not by a long shot—he hadn’t known a thing back then.  Maybe they should have told him sooner.

“Woody?” Andy prompted, bringing him back to the present.  “Do you have a _girlfriend_?”

“Yes—well—I did, but—”  Woody waved both hands sharply, smacking away his reveries.  “Never mind that.  But I _do_ have advice.”

Andy and Buzz were watching him attentively.  Woody searched his memory for some wisdom.  He put his hands on his belt to buy himself some time.  It was a little dusty in there.

“Well, Sheriff?” Buzz asked.

“ _Well_ ,” Woody shot back, “the thing is… uh… as far as guys and gals go, gals will do most of the work if you give them an opening.”  Yes, that was about how Bo had gone about it; Woody had barely had the wherewithal to let her know he wouldn’t _mind_ spending a little time with her, and she had taken it from there.

Now he had a rapt audience.  Feeling bolder, he explained, “All you have to worry about is letting this girl know it’s an option.  If she likes you, you’ll know.  Trust me.”

For a handful of seconds Andy nodded sagely.  Buzz had his elbows braced on his knees and his thoughtful commander face on.  But it couldn’t last.  Andy furrowed his brow and asked, “So… how do I ask Monica to the dance?”

Woody chewed on that one for a minute, lifting his hat to scratch his head.  His friends waited for his answer.  Finally, he said with as much dignity as he could muster, “Bo always asked _me_.”

* * *

Andy watched bemusedly as Buzz paced up and down the rows of calculus problems.  Buzz had a pencil slung over one shoulder like a rifle.  He examined the problems one by one, making heroically thoughtful noises as he went.

“Buzz, you can’t do math!” Woody called from the window sill.

Jessie shoved him.  “Quit heckling him!” she chided, but she was laughing, too.  “Go on, Buzz!  Show him how it’s done!”

Buzz refused to be embarrassed by either insult or encouragement.  “If I remember Star Command,” he said without looking up, “then it stands to reason that I remember what they taught Buzz Lightyear at the Academy.  That must have included some understanding of physics, which means…”

“That… you took intro to calculus?” Andy tried.

Buzz pointed at him in agreement, but Woody noticed he still wasn’t doing a thing with that pencil.  Andy leaned over Buzz to read the problems again without interrupting him.  After several minutes of emitting a determined air and a pensive silence, Buzz swung the pencil over his shoulder.  The point landed squarely on one of the questions, a jumble of numbers and symbols.

He cleared his throat and admitted, “I have no idea what this means.”

* * *

“Another birthday,” Potato Head groused, “and no kids.”

“Hey,” Woody warned.  But as usual, nobody listened to him.

“They just want to play video games and talk about basketball,” Potato Head continued.  “They won’t even look at us.  A three-and-up toy is too embarrassing.”

Rex shifted, a fact Woody knew because he heard him knock into the sides of the toy box.  “When do you think Andy will come up with a new game to play?” he whispered.

“He doesn’t _play_ games, you prehistoric imbecile.”

Woody sprang to his feet, pointing at Potato Head.  “Will you _cut it out_?” he hissed.

“He’s got a point,” Hamm said to no one in particular.

Woody was so mad that his “Okay, okay” came out as a laugh.  He pulled himself together.  “Can’t you see that we’ve got it _made_?  We don’t have to worry about the attic or being donated.  Andy _talks_ to us.”

“Yeah, that’s what it says on my box: ‘A good listener.’”

“Come on, guys!”  He turned to Jessie for backup.  “It’s not like he’s going to forget about us this way!  Right?”

She wrapped her arms around her knees and looked up at him with wide, sad eyes.  “It’s not the same, Woody.”

Woody faltered.  Jessie’s mouth twisted, and she gave an apologetic shrug.  Woody spun around, searching for the only other toy he could count on.  “Buzz?” he prompted hopefully.

Buzz opened his mouth, but his gaze was flicking around the toy box.  His brows drew together.  Woody nodded at him expectantly, but he didn’t answer or even look at him for a long time.  “This isn’t bad,” Buzz allowed at last.  “But they _do_ have a point.  This isn’t what toys do.”  Woody turned, a little dazed, to look at the other toys, and he could tell without them saying anything that they agreed.  When he faced Buzz again, his friend had fixed him with a sympathetic frown.  “I don’t know, Woody.  I just don’t know.”

* * *

Whatever they had been talking about, it was completely forgotten the moment the door opened.  Woody dropped on instinct, which pitched him headfirst over the edge of the desk.  He had years of this kind of panic under his belt, so he was perfectly capable of taking a mental survey of the other toys’ positions and, at the same time, thinking what rotten luck it was that he was going to hit the floor at this angle.

Andy fumbled but caught him in midair, less his hat, which landed with a clack on the floor.  Most everybody was at least close to the toy box, but Hamm—oh, no, _Hamm_.  Hamm had been nearly out the door on his way to browse the DVD collection, and he had roped Sarge into his dumb mission.  It was a little too late to warn them; the door came all the way open, and in stepped Andy’s mom.

“Andy,” she said in a wary, warning voice, “who were you talking to?”

Andy started and shoved Woody back onto the desk.  “Uh, n-nothing.”  He dove for Woody’s hat and threw it on the desk beside him.  “I mean, no one, Mom.”  He leaned over awkwardly to block his mom’s line of sight but didn’t manage it; Woody could clearly see her eyes narrow with suspicion.  He could also see Hamm and Sarge trying to get back inside the room from just behind her.  “How are you?”

“I could have sworn I heard you talking,” she insisted.  Sarge sidled in his efficient way behind the dresser, but Hamm wasn’t going to make it.  Woody wanted to wince every time he took a step.  Hamm was not stealthy.

“It was, um…”  Andy rubbed the back of his head.  “I mean, the TV…”

Andy’s mom laughed, her suspicious look evaporating.  “Oh, I’m kidding, Andy!”  She wrapped him in a hug and kissed his temple.  “I know you’re talking to your toys.”

“You do?” Andy asked, muffled and bewildered.

“Of course I do.  You’ve been doing it since you were little.  Talking to Woody and Buzz and making them answer you.”

She didn’t know.  Woody felt years added back onto his life.  In the background, Hamm froze where he was with obvious relief.

“It’s cute!” Andy’s mom went on.  She gave him a wry smile.  “I’m just glad my little boy isn’t _quite_ grown up yet.”

“Mom!” he protested, but she only hugged him tighter before letting him go.  He shook his hair back into place.  “I’m seventeen.  I’m going to college soon.”  He grabbed the letter—the wrinkled, much-read letter that had been the subject of their discussion only a minute ago—and held it out to her with a grin.  “Maybe even the college we were hoping for?”

She gasped.  “You got accepted?”  He nodded, and she pulled him into another hug without even looking at the letter.  He hugged her back, laughing.  “Aw, Andy, I’m so _proud_ of you!”

She _sounded_ proud.  And worried, and happy, and a little bit heartbroken, and like she could stand there and hug him forever.  Woody knew the feeling.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toy Story 3 still happened.
> 
> How? you might ask.
> 
> With slightly more debate on the toys' end, I would reply, and considerably more panic on Andy's.

The cardboard box bounced gently once, then twice, as the car went over a speed bump.  It was a sight less jarring than usual.  Woody had been through a handful of car rides and knew that a box full of toys could slide and rattle its way all around the backseat.  This time the box was awkwardly buckled into the passenger seat.  Speckles of sunlight drifted over them as they passed under trees, like the pitter-patter of rain.  The radio was on, but the volume was so low that it only emphasized the quiet.

They were all crowded around the edges of the box to watch the streets and houses pass by.  Woody was perched on the side of the box like a sentinel, one hand on the seatbelt to keep steady.  He peered at every landmark.  The view was familiar enough; they were practically in Andy’s neighborhood.  There was no bickering and no complaining, just the flash of mailboxes.

A hand landed on Woody’s arm.  When he looked down, Buzz had an eyebrow quirked in a questioning look, mouth pulled down in concern.  Woody gave him his most charming, reassuring sheriff smile.  Despite everything, he really was all right.

* * *

A few days ago, Andy had taken Woody on a drive, just the two of them.  And all at once, before they’d even started talking, Woody had understood that everything was different now.  The car meant playing games in the backseat to keep Andy occupied and spending some quality time with the floorboard.  Strange enough to see his kid driving, but this—sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for Andy to work up the gumption to say what was bothering him—was something entirely different.  And he was never going to get those road trips back.

This was not what toys were for.  But it was Andy, so he didn’t mind.

They were gently easing through a left turn downtown when Andy finally said, “I’ve been thinking about what to do.”

“Me, too.”

Andy looked marginally encouraged at his reply.  “It’s just that,” he continued, “I don’t play with toys anymore.  And I know that’s what you all want.”

He sounded so painfully apologetic that Woody had to say _something_.  “You’ve grown up,” he said.  He had refused to actually say it before, but now he realized just how true it was.  Andy was seventeen, about to go to college.  He had to shave.  He was responsible and capable.  The preschooler across the street called him _sir_.  “Every kid grows up, Andy.  It’s okay.”  He could just see Andy’s face screw up in the glow of a traffic light.

After a while, because he was afraid to know the answer, Woody ventured, “Did we make it harder on you?  When we let you know we were here?”

“No,” Andy replied immediately, and then, “Maybe.  If I had known when I was little that you could think and feel and everything, I don’t think I could have played with you like I did.  Not really played.”

“Oh.”  But of course he couldn’t have.  That was the real reason all toys had that one rule: because it kept playtime alive.  The whole point was to let a kid’s imagination run wild, to follow along with their stories.  Of course that would change if they knew their toys had opinions.  Andy especially would never have ordered them around if he had known he could have asked instead.  He really was the best kid a toy could ask for.

“But I’m glad you told me,” Andy said with sudden certainty.  “It was weird at first, and I’m not sure what to do.  But talking to you and everything…”  He looked away from the road for a second, long enough to offer Woody a tight but genuine smile.  “You mean a lot to me.”

Woody couldn’t muster up a single response.  Just then he could have been tossed into another incinerator and would have gone out happy.  He stared up at Andy with the start of a helpless answering smile.

Andy rubbed the back of his neck.  The brightness in his expression slowly drained back into worry.  “What about you?” he asked.  “Do you ever wish you hadn’t told me?”

Woody didn’t hesitate.  “Not for one second, partner.”

* * *

Another street sign slid by the passenger side window.  Woody leaned at a perilous angle to read it and then swung his legs over to hop back down into the box.  “Almost there,” he announced.

 _That_ shook up the silence.  Everyone started chattering at once, about two steps to the left of wholly freaking out.  The debate of each toy’s intrinsic entertainment value had always been a hot one, even once things had settled down around the time Andy turned thirteen; now it fired all the way back up.  But Woody wasn’t concerned with everyone’s egos.  What he _was_ concerned with was the way Jessie pulled down the brim of her hat.

“Are you sure she’ll like us?” Jessie pressed.

Woody had just opened his mouth to answer when Buzz declared, “She’ll _love_ you,” with such incredible conviction that even Woody was taken aback.  Jessie’s eyes widened, and one corner of her mouth started to inch up in a smile.  They stared at each other, oblivious to Andy’s assurances in the background.

(“Obviously you’re scary, Rex, but not _too_ scary.  Hey, slinkies have _never_ gone out of style.  And dogs are always great!  So why wouldn’t a slinky dog be the best toy ever?  Don’t you still have a couple of dollars in there, Hamm?  I wanted to give her a head start.”)

Woody hated to interrupt the moment, but it looked like Buzz’s brain had just caught up to his words, and a certain panic was creeping into his expression.  So Woody put an arm around Jessie’s shoulders and took the lead.  “Of course she’ll like you, Jess!  What kid in their right mind doesn’t want a rootin’ tootin’ cowgirl?”

She grinned.  “The rootin’-est tootin’-est in the wild, wild west!”

He gave her a one-armed hug so fierce it knocked her hat askew.  “That’s right!”

By that time, most everyone had calmed down a little.  Woody stood straight and tall in his best sheriff stance and addressed them all.  “This is going to be great, guys,” Woody told them.  “We’re going to stick together—”

“And you’re going to be fine,” finished Andy, quietly.

Woody looked up.  Andy was watching them with a sad twist of the mouth that couldn’t quite manage to be a smile.

“Eyes on the road, soldier,” Buzz said gently.

Andy obeyed.  The box full of passengers quieted down again.  Woody looked out the window.  The telephone poles were going by too fast; every one was like another _what if, what if, what if_.

Buzz cleared his throat.  In a low, consoling voice, he said, “I hope you’re ready to start getting rescued again.”

Woody turned from his thoughts with a sharp huff.  Buzz stood there nonchalantly with his hands on his hips as if he hadn’t just said something _completely_ ridiculous.  “Whoa there, space ranger,” Woody shot back, “I seem to recall _I’m_ the one who does all the rescuing.”

But Buzz only smirked knowingly.  Before Woody could do more than narrow his eyes, the car came to a careful stop.

Andy turned off the car and unbuckled his seat belt, but he didn’t get out.  He seemed just as lost in thought as Woody had been a minute ago.  Finally, he asked, “Are you sure?”

He was asking Woody.  Everyone else was caught up in the anticipation of being played with again, restless with excitement.  Woody wanted to hesitate—stall, really—but he couldn’t deny the other toys needed this.  “We’re toys, Andy,” he said.  “We’re meant to help kids play.  And you don’t…”  He took his hat off just to have something to hold onto.  “You don’t need us anymore.”

It was a terrifying thing to say, as though as soon as he spoke it aloud, Andy would realize how true it was, and everything would be over.  As though those were the last words the two of them would ever exchange.

But instead, Andy replied, “Maybe.  But I’ll really miss you.”

He was smiling, or at least giving it a better try than before.  He put Woody’s hat back on at a practiced rakish angle.  Woody offered a lopsided smile of his own; it came easier than he’d expected.

Buzz stepped up and put a hand on Woody’s shoulder.  “We’ll never forget you,” Buzz promised.  Jessie stood on Woody’s other side and nodded resolutely.

Potato Head blew out a sigh.  “You’re all right, Andy,” he admitted with surprising sincerity.

Buzz squeezed Woody’s shoulder, pulling his attention away from Andy’s surprised laughter.  “Ready?” he asked.

Woody exhaled.  He was ready, or at least he wasn’t going to get any readier than this.  Buzz was right there with him; as long as that was true, they’d figure out the rest.  “Yeah.”  Buzz gave him an encouraging push, and he turned to the other toys.  Woody cleared his throat.  “All right,” he said to everyone, “let’s go.”

They heard Bonnie’s mom first.  Andy stopped to make small talk with her.  And to be fair, she sounded like a lovely lady, welcoming and genuinely glad to see Andy.  But Woody knew what they were all listening to was the distant sound of Bonnie playing.  He couldn’t quite make out the words, but he could hear the dramatic rise of her narration.  Finally Andy started moving again.  Bonnie’s voice became clearer, and he could make out some ruckus about a haunted bakery.

A haunted bakery!  What an imagination!

Andy set the box down.  Grass rustled beneath the cardboard.  It was a nice enough day for playing out on the lawn; the sky was clear overhead, and it was pleasantly warm without being hot enough to melt anybody.  Andy gave every one of his toys a show-stopping introduction, and Bonnie applauded and laughed for all of them.  But when Andy lifted him out into the sunlight, she was especially excited to see Woody again.

Andy’s hands tightened around him.  “Do you think you can take good care of them?” he asked seriously.  Woody knew she would, and Andy must have, too, because he handed him over.  Bonnie grabbed Woody in a tight, heartfelt little-kid hug first thing.  As new beginnings went, it was pretty great.

Suddenly, Andy lunged for Hamm.  “Oh, no!” he cried.  He shook Hamm in the air.  “It’s the evil Doctor Pork Chop and his villainous machines!”

That was his story voice; there was no question about it.  Woody’s heart soared.  Bonnie picked up on the cue at once.  She gasped and popped up to her feet.  “All the ghosts are gonna wake up!”  With Woody in hand, she took off at a run.  And then—and _then_ —

“I hate ghosts,” Woody panted, a safe distance from the bakery.

Buzz frowned at the chaos they had left behind.  “Do you think my laser will do anything against them?”

“No, we have to put them back to sleep,” Woody explained.  “Come on!  We have to go save the others!”

They ran back the way they had come—or rather, Woody ran and Buzz flew alongside him.  Pork Chop had only wreaked more havoc in their absence.  He laughed maniacally in the middle of the dining area while ghosts swirled around in aggravated confusion.  Potato Head was in the corner cleaning out the pastry display.

“Good idea, attacking a bakery!” Potato Head called.  He loudly stuffed an entire pie in his mouth.

Pork Chop boomed out another evil laugh.  He rocked slightly on his hover boots.  “This is only the beginning of my plans!  Get me a cheese danish.”

Jessie leaped into the air to deliver a flying kick to his face.  “Hiyah!”

“Ow!” Pork Chop howled, spinning away to crash into the patio.  “Oh, no, not you again!  You’ve ruined my plans too many times, Jessie.”  He looked around nervously.  “But if you’re here… that means Woody and Buzz aren’t far behind!”

Woody kicked the door off its hinges.  “We’re here!” he announced.  “Reach for the skies.”

Once they had him surrounded, Jessie demanded, “Start singing, mister!”

“That’s doctor to you,” Pork Chop grumbled.

Buzz had caught on to Jessie’s plan.  He pointed his laser at Pork Chop.  “We need those ghosts fast asleep, you evil mastermind.  So you had better start humming.”

Dolly burst out from the kitchen.  “Wait!” she said.  “You need the magic guitar to make the ghosts asleep!”

Woody slapped a hand to his forehead.  “Oh, right!  The magic guitar.”

The hunt for the magic guitar went on for a good portion of the afternoon.  Everyone did their share; even the evil doctor saw the error of his ways and used his machines to help with the search.  When all was said and done and the ghosts were quieted, they all sat together at the newly repaired bakery and had cookies.  It was a satisfying ending to an amazing game, as far as Woody was concerned.  But something was missing.

He realized it with a start—Bonnie was doing all the voices now.  And even she stopped playing to say goodbye.

Andy was walking to the front gate.  It was over.  This was the real world, and Andy was leaving.  He unlocked the car that would take him miles and miles to college, to his new grown-up life where he didn’t need toys.  Woody knew he’d made the right call by bringing them here; he couldn’t abandon his friends, and they would be happy with Bonnie.  But just now he couldn’t see all that, just his kid walking away.

And then Andy said the most wonderful thing Woody had ever heard, words that stitched the tear in his heart right up.  From the curb, with his eyes on Bonnie but waving at all of them, he called, “I’ll see you at Christmas!”


	5. Chapter 5

The exact second the front door opened, Jamie burst out of her room and ran down the stairs as fast as she could.  She still had to take them one at a time, so it wasn’t fast enough, really, especially with her hands full.  “Bonnie’s here!” she announced at the top of her lungs.  “Bonnie’s here!  Bonnie’s here!”

“It’s just me, honey.  I was getting the mail.”  Mom came to the bottom of the stairs and gave her that pursed-lips raised-brows look.  “Jamie, what have I told you about running down the stairs?  Especially with your toys.  What if you fall?”

“I won’t,” Jamie replied with perfect confidence.  Just like she said, she got to the bottom of the stairs without tripping even a little.  “When is Bonnie getting here?”

“Ask your dad.”  Jamie set off to do just that, and Mom called firmly after her, “ _Walk!_ ”

Walking, technically, was where your legs didn’t bend so much and your feet went heel to toe, so Jamie finagled her run into something that could have been walking without dropping any speed.  Mom sighed loudly behind her.

Dad was in the downstairs bathroom, trying to get his tie right.  Jamie thought it would look better if he tied it into a bow.  He met her eyes in the mirror and smiled.  “Jamie, are you rules-lawyering your mother again?”

“Hmm,” said Jamie, because her other favorite way of rules-lawyering was _sounding_ like you had answered a question without actually doing it.  “Dad, when is Bonnie getting here?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

Dad stuck his tongue out at her.  “You’re that excited to get rid of us, huh?  I don’t know.  She said she would be here by six, and that’s in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes was a long time, but it wasn’t unbearable.  Bonnie liked coming over, so she wouldn’t be late, probably.  “Will you and Mom be back to tuck me in?”

“No, sorry, cowgirl.”  Dad stopped leaning into the mirror to give her a questioning look.  “We’ve already told you that.”

They had, but Jamie was hoping the answer had changed.  When Dad kept watching her, she shrugged sulkily.  After a while, he said, “We’ll be back when you wake up, honey,” and went back to straightening his tie, and then his jacket.

Jamie kicked at the corner of the rug.  She flipped it over and back a few times before asking, “Dad?”  He turned around, and immediately she announced, “Buzz wants a hug,” and stuck Buzz out toward him.  Buzz was kind of big around, so she usually had to hold him by the arm or leg.  Or by his head, but that seemed rude.  “Because he’s worried about how long you’ll be gone.”

“Oh, does he?”  Dad took Buzz from her and held him tight.  He even made that _mmm-mmm-mmm_ noise to show he was giving a really good hug.  Then he handed him back to Jamie.  “Does he feel better?”

“Yeah.”  After thinking for a minute, Jamie held out Jessie with her other hand.  She could hold Jessie around the middle, easy.  “Jessie, too.  But,” she added, “ _she’s_ not scared.”

“She’s pretty brave,” Dad agreed.  But he still gave Jessie just as good of a dad hug.  He tucked her back under Jamie’s arm and straightened out her hat.  “There.”  He crouched down and tapped Jamie’s nose.  “Now what if _I_ want a hug?”  He held out his arm with a goofy grin.

Jamie sprang forward right into him, and he scooped her up in a big hug.  She couldn’t hug him back with her arms full, and Buzz and Jessie were getting squished between them, but she didn’t think anybody minded.

 Jamie heard the clack-clack of fancy shoes, and Dad put her down.  A second later Mom appeared in the doorway.  “How do I look?” she asked.  She spun around.  She had on a blue dress that sparkled and floofed out when she twirled.

“Mommy, your dress is so _pretty_!” Jamie crowed.  “You look like a princess!”

Mom beamed.  “Thank you, honey.”

“She’s right,” Dad said.  “I was going to say the same thing.  She just beat me to it.”

Mom put her hands on her hips, but she wasn’t actually mad.  “Are you sure you don’t have anything else to say?”

Dad grinned.  “Not until we’re in the car.”

They kissed.  Gross.

Mom left to make sure their phone numbers were written down and there was some money on the counter.  Dad finally got done with the mirror and turned around.  “Ta-da!  What do you think, cowgirl?”

Jamie looked him over.  He was wearing a suit like his work clothes, but darker, and with a fancy coat.  And his hair was a little different, but not much.  “You look okay,” she decided.

Dad laughed.  From the kitchen, Mom shouted, “It’s almost six.  Andy, have you heard from Bonnie?”

“She said she was on her way,” he called back.  He ruffled Jamie’s hair and went to the kitchen so they could talk in inside voices.

Jamie wandered into the empty living room.  Mom and Dad were going a whole hour away, maybe more, and she would have to go to sleep knowing they weren’t home.  “I’m not scared,” she told herself.  She looked down at Buzz and Jessie.  “Cowgirls aren’t scared.”  Having decided that, she unloaded her toys on the couch and got to work.

A minute later, Buzz was flying around the room, with Jessie on his back steering him.  “Look out!” Jamie cried.  Buzz tipped sideways and banked left to miss the china cabinet.  “That was close!”  They went around and around the living room, where the couches were alien mountains and the walls were impossibly tall cliffs.  Jessie’s steering just saved them every time.  “Oh, no!”  Jamie made a very good _ka-chug ka-chug_ sound and dropped Buzz a few inches.  “We’re running out of gas—we’re gonna _craaaaaash_!”  She angled them toward the floor and dropped them with a satisfying, “Boom!”

Buzz had space armor and crashed all the time, so he got up first.  “Oh, no!  Jessie, are you okay?”

Jamie picked Jessie up next—fast, like she had jumped to her feet.  She was tough.  “I’m okay!  But I dropped my hat.”  She _had_ dropped her hat; it had rolled under the table, which was obviously a cave.

“I’ll get it!”  Jamie stretched out to get Buzz under the table and flip up his wrist pad.  “Whoa!”  She grabbed Jessie’s hat and brought them both back to the crash site.  “That cave goes on for a hundred miles!  Here you go, Jessie.”

She put the hat smartly back on Jessie’s head, making sure it would stay this time.  “Thanks!” she said in her Jessie voice.

“Now,” she said in her Buzz voice, “we’d better call the aliens to come get us.”  The wrist pad came up again with some beeping and ringing noises.  Jamie put on a wide frown for Buzz.  “Aw, space rats!  They’re not answering.  Now we’re stuck here!”

She did a cheerful voice for Jessie, because Jessie could handle anything.  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make a farm.”

Buzz’s knees didn’t really bend, but Jamie angled his legs back so he could fall to his knees.  She raised his arms in the air.  “Nooo!  I don’t know how to make a farm!”

She walked Jessie over to pull him to his feet.  “It’s okay, Buzz.  I’ll teach you.”  Jessie faced the farthest wall of the living room, looking dramatically into the distance.  “First, we need some cows….”

The doorbell rang.

Jamie scrambled up and ran, bringing Buzz and Jessie with her.  “Bonnie’s here!” she yelled, loud enough for her parents to hear.  She raced to the door and pressed her face to the window beside it.  Bonnie was standing outside with a bookbag.  She was the coolest person Jamie knew; she had sparkly jewelry, really colorful clothes, and short hair, and she always had good jokes.  Dad got there a few seconds after and opened the door.

“Hey, am I late?” Bonnie asked.

“No, you’re fine,” Dad replied.

Jamie disagreed.  “You can get here early next time, if you want.”

Bonnie grinned.  “Maybe I will.”  She crept closer, slowly speaking in her spooky voice.  “Maybe I’ll always be here… haunting you… forever!”

Jamie shrieked in delight and ran again.  Bonnie chased behind her, waggling her fingers and making ghost noises.  Before long, Bonnie had caught her, picked her up, and brought her back to the door, where her parents were waiting.

“If you need anything, call us,” Dad told Bonnie.

Bonnie waggled her eyebrows.  “Can you help me with my chemistry homework?”

“Uh, no.”

Mom shook her head.  “We really appreciate you doing this, Bonnie.”

“No problem,” Bonnie said confidently.  “Me and the captain here are going to have tons of fun.  Besides, Andy used to do this for my mom all the time.”

Dad smiled fondly.  “Still.”

Mom kissed Jamie’s cheek.  “See you in the morning, honey.”

“Bye,” Jamie replied, a little sadly but not too much, because Bonnie was here and they _were_ going to have tons of fun.

Dad squeezed her hand.  “Be good, okay?”

Jamie didn’t like that he thought she might not be, and pouted.  “Why don’t you tell Jessie and Buzz to be good?”

He just smiled like he knew a secret and tapped her nose.  “Bye, cowgirl.”

Once Mom and Dad were gone, Bonnie set her down, and they went into the living room together.  “Well, Captain,” Bonnie asked, “what are we playing tonight?”

Jamie knew the answer immediately.  She bounced.  “Oh!  Hold them!”  She shoved Jessie and Buzz into Bonnie’s arms and added, “Please!” before she dashed up the stairs for her room.

Jamie got to her room and went straight to the toy box to rummage through it—but he wasn’t there.  She searched her closet floor.  She even looked under the bed.  Finally, she stood in the middle of her room and turned in a circle, frowning intently.  She saw what she was after and stopped.  “I should’ve known!” she cried, accusing.

Woody was where he _always_ was when she couldn’t find him: beside the shepherdess lamp on her nightstand.  He was sprawled next to her, dangling, with one arm hooked through the shepherdess’s.  “Come _on_ , Woody,” Jamie huffed, “Bonnie’s here!”  She wiggled him free and made sure his hat was in place.  He just smiled up at her like always.

And then Jamie was coming back down the stairs with Woody clutched to her chest, and Bonnie and Jessie and Buzz were waiting in the living room.  Jamie smiled so big she could feel it all the way to her toes.  “Okay!” she said breathlessly.  “Let’s play!”


End file.
